I've been this way ten years to the day
by Scarlet Page
Summary: After not having seen each other since graduation, Rachel meets Quinn again in the most unlikely of circumstances.


"Trust me, she's the best. She's young and has already made quite a name for herself. Perfect for you."

Rachel takes the small white card her colleague hands her and reads out loud. "Doctor Q. Lancing, psychiatrist. And then a telephone number. Not very informative, is it."

"That's the point, she's very discreet and lets her reputation do the talking. Shall I call and make an appointment for you?"

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I've already inconvenienced you enough by asking you to help me look for a suitable mental health professional to help me work through my issues." Rachel takes her phone from her purse and begins dialling.

"They say accepting you have a problem is the first step right?" she adds with a wry smile.

* * *

><p>"You can go ahead and take a seat in the office, doctor Lancing will be with you in a few moments." The receptionist presents her with a smile that's most likely meant to be reassuring but it just seems condescending to her right now. She opts to simply return the smile and nod, entering the room and settling herself on the large couch in the middle.<p>

The room is decorated in a style what she supposes passes for classy, lots of dark colors and mahogany. It just makes her feel even less at ease. Rachel Berry and beige leather just don't go together, whether she needs therapy or not.

After what feels like a small eternity the door behind her finally opens, and Rachel has to summon every bit of willpower she has not to turn around abruptly to observe the person she will be dealing with. In stead, she stands up slowly and speaks while turning around on her feet.

"Good afternoon, my name is Rachel-"

Suddenly everything stops. Before her stands, with a look of complete disbelief on her face, none other than Quinn Fabray. Or Quinn Lancing, as she's apparently known these days. Her hair is still the same shade of blond as ever, but longer than it was senior year.

Neither of them move for quite some time, both seemingly content with just staring in shock before finally the silence is broken.

"Berry." Quinn's voice is steady, but soft.

Rachel doesn't really know what to say, but for her that's never been a reason to actually stay quiet. She can't quite believe though that the only thing coming out of her mouth is "You addressing me by my last name, doesn't that take you back?" She has no idea where that comes from, and it comes out completely humourless.

Quinn, to her credit, just shifts her face and adopts a much more professional look. She proceeds as if Rachel was just another patient, shaking her limp hand and motioning towards the couch.

"Welcome miss Berry, I'm doctor Lancing. Please, take a seat on the couch and we'll get started."

She moves past Rachel without even a hint of awkwardness and settles herself in the lounge chair opposite the couch, dropping the notepad she was holding on the side table. She looks up again with a somewhat expectant look on her face.

"Uhm, yes, of course, the couch. It's very comfortable I must say, despite the horribly uninviting color pattern." Rachel tries her very best to join Quinn in what is becoming a supreme exercise in denial but her mind can't quite keep up.

Bottling things up might be Quinn's life philosophy but it's one Rachel will never subscribe to. So in stead, she gives up and just opens her mouth again to let the words form themselves.

"I uhm- I had no idea you had become a psychiatrist, let alone here in New York. Then again how many people are there with a first name starting with a Q? I probably should have picked up on that, but your last name is different now and-"

Quinn leans forward and puts up her hand. "Rachel, please. Try to remain calm."

She feels some annoyance at being interrupted in her rambling, because rambling is comforting and it means she doesn't have to focus on how incredibly strange this all is.

"Calm? How do you propose I accomplish that? Quinn, we haven't seen each other in by my best approximation a whole decade and now all of a sudden we're sitting across each other in a psychiatrist's office. _Your _office. And I'm supposed to sit here and talk about my problems to someone who already knows me and as such has to hold a certain biased point of view which I can only assume is detrimental to the mental healing process. Don't you find all of that the least bit strange?"

She tries not to let her voice sound panicked but she's pretty sure that's a lost cause at this point. Quinn still doesn't seem at all affected by her words or their current predicament.

Then, Quinn sighs and leans back while glancing at her notepad. "Yes, Rachel. I suppose if you put it like that this situation is rather odd."

She turns her head again to look back at Rachel, and with a barely noticeable grin asks "How does that make you feel?"

Rachel's mouth opens even further while her voice pitch only goes up. "Are you- is this some sort of game? You cannot be my psychiatrist, Quinn! Especially if you just start asking me incredibly clichéd questions one only ever hears a psychiatrist ask on television."

Quinn's grin widens. "And why not? You made an appointment and paid for a full hour. The way I see it, that entitles me to the asking of certain questions."

Rachel's annoyance is quickly starting to be replaced by anger and she scoffs while folding her arms.

"If you must know, it makes me feel rather upset." She looks away, but quickly turns her head back around at the sight of a stuffed owl with particularly condescending looking eyes.

She tries to shoot Quinn a disapproving look. "It also upsets me that you apparently are completely fine with this impromptu reunion."

"Rachel, I am a professional. Trust me when I say that even in my short career so far I've had to deal with far more awkward situations in this room."

That statement does nothing to alleviate Rachel's stress level, but to her surpise she does find herself asking "How long have you had this practice then?"

She's not surprised when Quinn neglects to answer and instead scribbles something down on her pad.

Rachel rolls her eyes and decides, as she always has when it comes to Quinn, to not shy away from confrontation.

"And I suppose now you're going to tell me we're not here to talk about you but about me. Well, let me tell you Quinn, if there's anything I do not feel like doing at the moment it is discussing my personal problems with you sitting there looking like this is the most amusing coincidence in the world."

Quinn's only reaction is the straightening of her lips. "What _do_ you feel like doing?" Before Rachel can answer she adds "And please don't say you feel like storming out, that would reflect badly on my impeccable reputation."

She just glares back, but with less anger now. "Not a storm out per se, but I do have a strong desire to not be in this room anymore."

"Well, something's keeping you here. Probably the same thing that made you come here in the first place. Can you point out what that is?"

Another scoff. "Oh, you're good. I'm sure any other patient would fall for that kind of line."

There's a sudden silence neither of them is willing to break for a long moment, and Rachel is beginning to think Quinn has reached the bottom of her bag of psychiatric tricks.

She couldn't be more wrong. "I know you've always had a soft spot for the dramatic Rachel, but even for you this reaction to our re-acquaintance seems a bit excessive. Yes, this is an... interesting coincidence. But your sudden anger seems to have more to do with seeing me as your therapist than it does with just seeing me again. Is that correct?"

"Of course it is! If we would be meeting anywhere else I would have asked you about every single thing you've done since going off to Yale and get you up to speed about my own life as a rising Broadway star, which I'm sure would be a thoroughly enjoyable conversation. But instead, we get...this." She gestures at the room with her arms at the last word.

"Don't you think 'this' is, in some ironic way, amusing?" Quinn apparently resists the urge to use actual air quotes.

She scoffs once more and leans back into the couch, looking away from Quinn towards the enormous bookcase in the corner. "For you, maybe."

"What do you mean by that?" The question is voiced in a tone not used before, betraying surprise.

Rachel turns her head back to look at Quinn with a defeated look on her face. "If you really can't figure that one out, I suppose you are not what I'm looking for." She closes her eyes for a second and then stands up. "I will no longer be requiring your services, doctor Lancing. Thank you for your time."

Quinn stays silent, and when she reaches the door she cannot help but look over her shoulder one last time. The look on the other girl's face is inexplicably hard to decipher as always, but Rachel can't help but see a hint of regret.

Which makes it even harder for her not to freeze when she hears one final textbook phrase from the other side of the room.

"See you next week, miss Berry."


End file.
